


Protect His Truth

by eurydice72



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, M/M, Merlin's Magic Revealed, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-28 01:33:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2714045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eurydice72/pseuds/eurydice72
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Merlin, it was falling at first sight. Literally. Having a crush on Camelot's new knight, however, makes hiding the truth about his feelings as well as his magic a little more difficult.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Protect His Truth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aeris444](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeris444/gifts).



> Happy holidays! When I saw your prompt ideas, I fell in love. I could have easily written all three of them and loved every second. As it was, I went with my boy Percival, because, well, it's Percival. I hope you enjoy. :)

He was very hard to miss. Literally. Not only did Percival stand head and shoulders above any of the others, Merlin bumped into him on two separate occasions before they made it to safety.

The first was a complete accident. Merlin stepped back from welcoming Lancelot with a warm hug to have his heel come down atop a very large foot, followed by his shoulder lurching into a very broad chest when he tried to stop himself from falling. When warm fingers wrapped around his elbow to steady him, Merlin looked up into blue eyes and a quizzical smile.

“All right there?” Percival asked.

“Yeah. Sorry about that.” Merlin straightened, then straightened again as the breadth of the stranger sank in. He was accustomed to Arthur’s bulk, but Lancelot’s friend eclipsed all of them. Power rippled in his bared arms, but for all his obvious strength, his grip had been oddly gentle.

After a moment, his smile widened. “I’m Percival, by the way.”

He flushed pink as he realized he was staring. “Merlin. I’m Arthur’s—”

“Servant. I know. It’s good to finally meet you.”

Before he could ask what Lancelot had said about him, Arthur was calling out for the need to move on. Merlin gave Percival a nod, jogged up to walk with Arthur, and didn’t think about Percival again until the second time they bumped into each other.

It wasn’t really Merlin’s fault that time, he decided, more of a mutual distraction that had the result of limbs becoming entangled in the most unfortunate of positions. They were scaling a steep hill to get a look around and determine what path to take next, a hill that required reaching out for handholds in low-hanging branches every once in a while. Arthur and Leon waited at the top, while Gaius remained at the bottom with Gwen. The rest were scattered along the slope as they climbed to join in the debate. At least until Merlin took an extra-long stride to better grab a sturdy-looking vine.

Percival had the same idea. Their hands knocked against each other, and a startled Merlin slipped on the bracken when he jerked back. He flailed for anything sturdy enough to keep from falling.

That turned out to be Percival’s arm. Who was also unsteady on his feet at the unexpected contact.

They crashed together and went rolling, head over heel, more and more knotted until they ran out of hill and Percival ended up trapped beneath Merlin sprawling across his midsection.

Both men froze. At first, Merlin thought the way his heart thudded in his throat was from the adrenaline of the fall. As the bumps and scratches faded into a distant ache, however, the unyielding muscles he rested on took precedence. Heat came off Percival in waves, seeping through Merlin’s clothes like he was sitting too close to a roaring bonfire. At some point, Percival had grabbed Merlin’s arm, and now, he could feel the imprint of each finger, echoes of the same gentle strength Percival had used on him the first time he’d fallen.

Then, those hands were replaced by softer ones, Gwen tugging at his shoulders to help him sit up. He waved off her questions of concern, too embarrassed that he hadn’t got up on his own.

“I’m fine,” he heard Percival say. “I just make a lot of noise when I fall.”

After that, he couldn’t get his thoughts off Percival at all. Arthur was too busy arguing with Leon about the best route to take, Gwaine was doing everything in his power to make Gwen blush, while Elyan seemed to be encouraging anything that would embarrass his sister. Merlin turned to Gaius for distraction, but their journey was taking its toll on him, and there was Percival, matching the older man’s pace step by step, his firm arm beneath Gaius’s to bolster his strength as they progressed.

Their eyes caught. Merlin nodded once in gratitude. When Percival smiled in return, Merlin could’ve sworn his cheeks were pink.

* * *

That solicitousness was the first thought he had about Percival once the battle was over. Well, perhaps the second. When Gwaine was telling tales at the tavern about their exploits as they rescued Uther, his grandiose descriptions of Percival’s prowess evoked memories Merlin had hoped to ignore by the light of day. But honestly, he set those aside to join in the celebration unencumbered by flights of fancy for a man his dreams refused to relinquish.

Stumbling in on said fancy holding several baskets of supplies while Gaius stirred a concoction over a flame reminded him of everything all over again.

“Merlin!” Gaius cried out. “You’re just in time.”

Merlin hesitated, jerking his gaze away when Percival smiled at him over his shoulder. “Just in time for what?”

“Fetch a jar of my wort oil. We need to make a burn salve.”

He felt the weight of Percival’s curiosity as he dug around on the shelves for the oil. When he brought it back, he started to hand it over, only for Gaius to say, “Pour it in. Very slowly.”

“Did they have another fire in the kitchen?” Merlin asked as he did as he was told.

Gaius plucked an herb from the nearest basket as he continued to stir. “No, nothing like that.”

“Then what’s it for?”

When Gaius hesitated, Percival cut in. “It’s for me.”

Merlin swept a practiced eye over him, doing his best to keep it clinical rather than dwell on how well-formed his arms were. He succeeded. For the most part.

“If you don’t mind my asking—”

“Merlin…”

“—what happened?” he finished, ignoring Gaius’s warning.

Percival shrugged, somehow managing not to disturb the baskets he held. “Old injury. It bothers me now and again, is all.”

That made more sense. Merlin let it drop. He didn’t know Percival nearly well enough to pry into something he wasn’t volunteering.

* * *

“So Percival seems to be fitting in pretty well,” Merlin commented as he set out Arthur’s breakfast. “Don’t you think?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Arthur poked at the bread and wrinkled his nose. “Did you find this in the rat traps?”

“It’s fresh from the kitchen, just like always.” He stepped away from the table, holding his hands behind his back to hide his fidgeting. “There’s no reason he shouldn’t, of course.”

“Who shouldn’t what?”

Merlin frowned as Arthur took his seat. “Percival. Fit in. The topic we were discussing?”

“Are you sure this is fresh?” Picking it up, he knocked it against the edge of the table until crumbs went flying. “It’s as hard as your head.”

There would be no getting through to Arthur when he was like this, so Merlin dropped the subject. He bustled through the rest of his chores, and when it came time to clear everything away so Arthur could get to training, Merlin made a point of mentioning how caught up he was on all his chores and he’d be more than happy to help out today if Arthur wanted.

Arthur frowned. “You complained for three days after the last time I made you help us.”

“I complain about everything.”

“True.”

“So do you want my help or not?”

“I’m more than happy to throw things at your head.” Grinning, he popped a grape into his mouth. “Even better with an audience.”

Merlin let it slide, but when the other knights began to filter onto the training field after breakfast, Merlin was already there, alert and prepared with any piece of equipment Arthur might require. 

“Good morning, Merlin,” Lancelot said as he came up from behind. 

When Merlin swiveled with his own cheery greeting, his smile widened at the sight of Percival standing there, too. “Everything’s all out,” he said, gesturing toward the weapons lined up on the nearby rack. “Arthur should be here any moment.”

Lancelot headed over to the armaments, but Percival hesitated. “So you’re helping today?”

“Yeah. Arthur’s in the mood for a moving target, it seems.”

“How do you do it?”

“Very, very quickly.”

Percival laughed. Sometimes, when Merlin looked at him, he marveled at how carefree he seemed. Smiles came easily, shared freely, and for as intimidating as his size likely was for a lot of people, his eyes always gleamed with kindness. He was as approachable as Gwaine without the edge of danger Gwaine always brought to a situation.

Yet, Lancelot had said he’d lost his whole village to Cenred. It hadn’t been that long ago, either. According to Gwaine, Percival’s fury in the heat of battle was chillingly lethal, which had to mean he exorcised the pain of his loss when he fought. How did two such disparate sides exist so peacefully in the same man?

“You must never sleep,” Percival said. “You seem to be everywhere for everyone.”

“That’s Merlin for you.” Gwaine startled him by appearing out of the blue and clapping him on the shoulder. “Always doing for others without a thought to himself.”

He flushed at the compliment and tried to shrug it off. “Someone’s got to keep you lot on track.”

“Ah, but it’s off the track where we have all the fun.” With a wink, Gwaine sauntered off, tossing back, “Tell him about the spree at the stables in Vertmarsh, Merlin. Give him a taste of what’s in store.”

Now, he really was blushing, because the last thing he’d expected was for Gwaine to pick up on his more than friendly feelings for Percival. He certainly didn’t need Gwaine saying anything to Percival, either. The last thing the knights needed right now was for his presence to make things awkward because Percival wasn’t interested.

“What happened in Vertmarsh?” Percival asked.

Merlin waved it off. “It’s not nearly as interesting as Gwaine makes it out. And if Arthur ever found out, I’d likely be mucking the stables every day for the next month.”

“You don’t think I can keep a secret?”

The question was playful in its innocence, the twinkle in Percival’s eye even more so, but the spirit of what secrets could encompass knocked Merlin off-balance for a moment. Lancelot knew about his magic. Did that mean he’d said something to Percival? No, he wouldn’t, not without Merlin’s permission. Percival couldn’t understand what kind of thing he was suggesting.

He was stopped from having to answer by Arthur’s arrival. “Merlin’s rubbish at keeping secrets,” Arthur said. “It’s all that time he spends down at the tavern.”

He’d argue, but Arthur would never let the teasing go then. Though the other knights knew him well enough to know it wasn’t true, Percival didn’t. For whatever reason, that mattered.

Arthur was off, organizing the others, but still Percival lingered. “If you ever need some help, you can always ask me,” he said, so low nobody else would hear. “I tend to be good at that.”

Merlin glanced automatically at his bare arms, then looked away when his thoughts went to what they would feel like wrapped around certain body parts rather than flexed from fighting. Those were fantasies for the dark of night, when he could imagine stretching Percival out and learning every slope and plane of his long, chiseled body without fear of interruption. Here, in the one place Arthur observed everything, he had to treat Percival just like he did everyone else.

“I’ll remember that,” he said. 

As well as every detail from the rest of that day.

* * *

Though he crawled into his bed that night sore and aching, Merlin made sure to accompany Arthur to training as often as he could, getting other chores done quickly to eliminate the usual excuses to get out of it. He became such a regular fixture, the knights began teaching him more, allowing him to contribute beyond organization or being their practice dummy. Gwaine showed him footwork, while Lancelot and Elyan worked on his sword-handling. Leon was all about strategy, which he was pleasantly surprised he could use outside of their battles, but it was Arthur asking Percival to join in on building Merlin’s physical strength that knocked him for a loop.

Apparently, it knocked Percival, too. Considering how big he was, that was saying something.

“Do you really think that’s necessary?” Percival asked.

Merlin stood off to the side, trying not to let his disappointment show. As disinterested as he was in whatever strength exercises Arthur had in mind, he’d enjoyed every minute he got to spend with Percival. Percival always made a point of making sure Merlin was included on their breaks, though he rarely got the opportunity to speak since Gwaine had a tendency to monopolize conversations, and he was always the last to leave so he could help Merlin pack up. While it didn’t do much to mitigate Merlin’s deepening crush, Merlin didn’t care because the company was worth it.

He’d thought they were getting to be friends, if nothing else. How had he misjudged this?

“Necessary?” Arthur laughed. “He takes naps every time I turn my back. If he’s stronger, he might actually make it through the day for a change.”

Percival cast a sideways glance at Merlin. The look was speculative and not nearly as indifferent as Merlin had first assumed. Hope bloomed again, and Merlin remained unflinching, prompting the corner of Percival’s mouth to tilt up.

“If I may, sire, I disagree,” Percival said. “Improving his footwork and the hours Lancelot and Elyan have put in with him make Merlin stronger every day. If that was his greatest talent, I’d do whatever you asked to help him. But I don’t believe it is. I think his time could be better applied elsewhere.”

Percival’s declaration piqued more than Merlin’s interest. The other knights stopped what they were doing to listen in.

“Oh?” Arthur grinned at Percival in indulgence. “And how do you think my manservant is better utilized?”

If he was aware of Arthur’s teasing, Percival didn’t let it show. “Merlin is swift and smart. Adding muscle will slow him down. If we wish to put him to different use in the field, we’re best served taking advantage of those as well as how good he is with people.”

Though he knew Arthur would never agree with Percival’s assessment, warmth suffused him at the generous words. None of it was contrary to everything Percival had displayed thus far, but hearing the sentiments stated so baldly to Arthur of all people was nothing Merlin got very often. And from _Percival_ , with all the knights smiling or nodding in the background.

Arthur noticed, too. “He can be fast, I’ll grant you that. He’s much better at dodging my blows than he ever used to be.” It was said so lightly, even Merlin joined in with the laughter. “All right, we’ll forego the physical for now. He’d probably drive you mad with all his nattering anyway.”

“Oh, I didn’t say I wouldn’t be more than happy to help in some way,” Percival said as Arthur started to turn away. “Perhaps he could join me on one of my patrols.”

Arthur frowned. “And what would he gain from that? He goes out with me all the time.”

“Which means he’s likely learned to look for the same things you do,” Percival replied smoothly. “I’m not as familiar with Camelot as you are. Just as working for Gaius has honed a specific set of Merlin’s skills, assisting me or any of the others would open his eyes to different paths and responses.”

“That’s true,” Leon interjected. “Merlin’s an expert at anticipating your needs, but we could refine his ability to adapt to his situation.”

To Merlin, the entire prospect was dubious. He was already good at thinking on his feet, and his schedule was stretched to its limit. Going out with patrols would take away from his duties for Arthur, and frankly, Arthur didn’t like sharing him with Gaius let alone anyone else.

But it was tempting, that he had to admit. More time with Percival? Time beyond the walls to search for signs of Morgana so they weren’t taken by surprise later on? He would pretend to need these so-called lessons for either one.

Arthur looked unsure, too. His frown swiveled in Merlin’s direction. “It would be nice to get more out of him, but I don’t see how he has the time for it.”

“He has time to go to the tavern,” Gwaine offered.

Merlin shot Gwaine a hard stare of annoyance. He was trying to break Arthur of the notion about his tavern time, not make it worse.

Except it seemed to do the trick as Arthur mused, “That could be a win in more than one way, then. Keep him away from the drink as well as make him more useful.” He nodded. “All right. Next time you go on patrol, take Merlin with you. We’ll do a test run and set how it goes.”

With the decision made, Arthur marched off, picking up his sword along the way to spar against Gwaine. Percival watched him until his back was turned, then let out a long breath.

“Did I sound as nervous as I felt?” he asked, his voice so low Merlin knew it was meant only for him.

Merlin edged closer. “No, of course not. Why should you be nervous around Arthur?”

“I’m not. Not usually. But I’ve been waiting for the chance to ask him about the patrols, and it all made perfect sense when I was thinking it through, but I didn’t know how it would sound until now.”

“You’ve been…waiting?”

“Well. Yeah.” Color crept up the back of his neck, his eyes everywhere but on Merlin. “He never gives you a day off. Gwaine thought it might be the only way I’d get to see you when he wasn’t around.”

That explained Gwaine’s aid. He couldn’t have told Percival how Merlin felt, though. Percival wouldn’t be nearly as unsure as he seemed.

It also meant that maybe his feelings weren’t completely unreciprocated. The knowledge boosted his confidence more than Percival’s compliments had.

“We could’ve found a way,” Merlin said. “But I’m very glad we don’t have to now.”

Percival’s sudden smile put all his fears to rest. As long as Merlin knew there was a chance for success, he could endure just about anything.

* * *

The rain streaked down, even through the trees, turning dusk into darkness, the ground into mud. Though he had his collar up, water still ran down the back of Merlin’s neck, plastering his shirt to his cold upper body. He desperately wanted to cast a spell that would shield them for the last of the way home, but with Percival mounted at his side, the best he could do was hunker down and try his best not to shiver too much.

Patrolling with Percival was not what either one of them had expected. Though Percival had managed to convince Leon to take his night shift, the clouds hiding the sun had burst within the first hour of going out. They had no opportunities to talk or simply enjoy each other’s company. The rain forced them to focus more closely on their surroundings, and now, with his shift at an end, they returned to Camelot in no better place than they’d left.

As well as soaking wet.

When they reached the gates, Percival led him straight to the stables rather than the courtyard. The path was longer, but halfway there, a young groom dashed out to meet them. He took Percival’s reins as he dismounted, while Merlin slid from his horse. His boots squelched. He’d have to leave them by the fire so they’d dry out by morning.

“I’m sorry.” A contrite Percival stood in front of him, just as drenched as Merlin. “Today couldn’t have gone worse if I tried.”

“You’d be surprised.” He started heading for the closest door. “Come on. Supper might still be warm if we hurry.”

“I can’t. I have to make my report.”

On the threshold, Merlin hesitated. Percival hadn’t moved a step. Rain dripped down his face, clinging to his lashes, and his body was a mass of tension, likely to snap at the first provocation. He’d never looked unhappier. Merlin wouldn’t let their day end like this.

Wearing a bright smile he hoped Percival trusted, he stepped out of the way, holding the door open. “Then I guess we’re seeing Arthur first.”

His meaning sank in as soon as he uttered the words. Percival straightened, and a glimmer of the wonder he’d greeted Merlin with at the start of his shift returned to brighten his eyes. Without a word, he strode forward to duck inside.

They found Arthur leaving Uther’s chambers. At the sight of their bedraggled states, he raised his eyebrows but otherwise held his tongue while Percival spoke.

“Was it worth it?” Arthur asked after hearing the lack of news. 

The question confused Merlin until he realized Arthur referred to him. Unsure who Arthur expected to reply, he glanced up at Percival and saw him nodding.

“The poor weather changed many of the landmarks I’m accustomed to,” Percival said. “Having Merlin there with me proved invaluable.”

“So it helped you rather than him.”

“I got something out of it, too,” Merlin interjected before Arthur could find reason to cancel any further attempts.

“Like what?”

“Like…” He scrambled to come up with something tangible that didn’t have anything to do with spending time with Percival. “Tracking. He’s excellent at it. Better than you, even.”

All of that was true, though he’d gleaned that more from previous quests than the day’s events. And he probably shouldn’t have added on the last because of Arthur’s hard frown.

“I thought you didn’t find anything,” he said.

The note of accusation was aimed straight at Percival, so Merlin jumped in again to deflect it. “It turned out to be nothing. A fox that crawled across the path to die elsewhere.”

“And that was hard to track in the mud?”

“There were a lot of leaves.”

“Leaves.”

“And it was skinny. Very hard to see.”

“Mmhmmm.” He gave them both a final scan down their damp forms. “Thank you for the report. Now go dry off and get something to eat.”

“Yes, sire.”

“I’ll bring your supper up as soon as possible,” Merlin added.

Arthur shook his head. “Don’t worry about that tonight. I’m dining with my father. Take the rest of the night off.”

Percival burst into laughter once Arthur was gone. “A skinny fox?”

Merlin shrugged. “It worked, didn’t it?” He squirmed as a fresh drop of cold rainwater dribbled down the back of his neck. “Now we really have to get out of these wet clothes. You coming down to eat with me and Gaius?”

“Am I still invited?”

“Of course.”

“Then, yes. Just as soon as I go change, too.”

* * *

Merlin wasn’t sure if Gaius’s errand was legitimate or another attempt by a well-meaning friend to give him alone time with Percival—though considering he rarely saw them together, it was more likely the former—but it served to give them privacy after the dishes were washed. Though it wasn’t exactly inviting, it was warm, it was dry, and best of all, nobody could interrupt them.

Percival wandered around the edge of the room, eyes jumping from shelf to shelf. “I’ve never seen so many books in one place.”

Leaning back against the table, Merlin contented himself to watch. Sleeves or not, he rarely saw Percival out of his chainmail. Clad now in a plain tunic and trousers, Percival was infinitely more approachable, his muscles just him rather than a weapon. “You must not have been down in the archives yet, then. Geoffrey hoards most of the really good ones.”

Percival stopped in his tracks. “You’ve read these?”

“Not all of them. Gaius uses them.”

“But you help Gaius, right?”

“When he needs me.”

“Do you plan on becoming a physician, too, then?”

He laughed. “Oh, no. Arthur needs me too much.”

Craning to look at vials on the back of a shelf, Percival fell quiet for a moment. Merlin had to strain to hear him when he spoke again. “Arthur doesn’t know how lucky he is.”

Anything he might say to that would sound glib or too insincere, and the last thing he wanted was for Percival to believe he didn’t appreciate it. “I can’t imagine doing anything else, really. Sometimes, I think I should miss Ealdor more than I do, but then Arthur does something that proves what a great king he’s going to be, and I realize this is where I belong.”

“I’ve felt that.”

“Which part?”

“All of it, I guess. But the part about belonging here. I never expected it.”

“But you agreed to come with Lancelot anyway.”

“I wanted to help. After Cenred…”

Percival never talked about what had happened to his village, and frankly, Merlin doubted Lancelot had told any of the other knights. It wasn’t his way. The more time Merlin spent with Percival, however, the more curious he became about the man’s roots.

“I never had any brothers and sisters,” he said carefully. “It was just me and my mother.”

“What happened to your father?”

Thinking of Balinor always came with an ache in the center of his chest, even in the face of such an innocent question. His gaze dropped to the floor. “He left before I was born.” But because it was Percival, and because he wanted something more than the deception he usually had to hide behind, he added, “I got to meet him once. Right before he died.”

Percival’s light step rustled over the stone floor, his feet appearing briefly in Merlin’s line of sight before he sat on the bench next to him. “I was eight when my father passed. I always wished I could have just one more day with him.”

Their thighs brushed against each other, dispelling the chill that had settled over Merlin. His fingers itched to reach over, to finally cave to the desires that had kept him in their thrall from the first time he’d seen Percival. Was the time appropriate, though? What if Gaius returned? He wouldn’t care, but it might spook Percival. Better to be sure and not ruin what they might be able to have.

“I didn’t realize you’d been alone all this time,” he said.

“I haven’t. Father died pulling me out of a fire when I got trapped. I lost my mother and my two sisters last year when Cenred raided my village.” He paused. “That’s why I need the salve Gaius made me. I have scars on the back of my legs from the fire. Sometimes, they flare up.”

Touching him now was instinctive. The tight muscle beneath his palm flexed once, then relaxed. His pulse leapt when Percival covered Merlin’s hand with his own.

“I would never have guessed,” Merlin said.

Percival gave him a half-smile. “I’ve worked hard to make sure nobody ever does. It’s easier to forget when nobody asks questions.”

“I hope you didn’t think I was prying.”

“Of course not. I volunteered it.”

 

“Well, you can trust me not to say anything.”

The smile widened. “I know.”

Thinking about it afterward, Merlin couldn’t say who moved first. One minute, he was marveling how lucky they all were to have a man such as Percival in their midst. The next, their lips grazed across each other’s, their breath hot and shallow, his heart pumping with the same thrill he’d experienced the first time he’d flown on Kilgarrah’s back. Neither probed for more. The near chaste caress almost seemed enough.

Almost.

The moan that escaped Percival’s throat went straight past Merlin’s reserves, dissolving whatever leash he might’ve held on his restraint. When Percival began to withdraw, Merlin panicked, reaching up to grasp Percival’s nape and haul him back. He sealed their mouths together in a desperate bid to take what he’d been dreaming about for so long. They both wanted this. There was no point in denying it anymore.

Without breaking the kiss, Percival slid his arm behind Merlin’s back and tugged, encouraging Merlin to twist and clamber onto his lap. It better aligned their mouths, making it easier to devour him, but even better, he felt the thick bulge of Percival’s cock pressing against his balls. 

A tremor wracked through Percival. Merlin’s teeth caught on his lower lip when Percival gasped for breath.

“I didn’t think—”

“Don’t think.” But when Merlin attempted to kiss Percival again, Percival stiffened.

Soft pleading lurked in the dark depths of Percival’s eyes, a vulnerability that nearly undid him. “I can’t be one of those people who takes and takes from you,” he murmured. 

“You’re not.” He couldn’t break Percival’s grip without using magic, which meant he had to sit there, on the precipice of having everything he’d wanted, until Percival yielded. “Whatever happens, I give it freely. But if you’re not ready for this, I can wait.” He offered a crooked grin. “I can be surprisingly patient for things that truly matter. Just don’t tell Arthur.”

His teasing tone startled Percival into laughing. “I _am_ ready. But I still feel like we’re rushing. I’m not Gwaine. I’m not interested in instant gratification. I want something that’s going to last.”

The way he said it made Merlin pause. “You know Gwaine and I are just friends, right?”

“I know. He told me. He also told me he tried for more when he first came to Camelot and you turned him down.”

“He’s fun, I’ll grant you that.” He might not be able to kiss Percival again, but he could still touch. He slid his hand away from Percival’s neck to trace his bottom lip with his thumb. “I’ve always wanted more.”

“So do I.” 

Turning his head, he skimmed his mouth across Merlin’s fingertips. 

The tenderness was exactly what Merlin had come to expect from him.

* * *

They stole every free minute they could, but there weren’t as many as Merlin wanted. Percival’s patrols started conflicting with more of his duties for Arthur, while Merlin’s chores seemed to double overnight. Training was curtailed, too, when Arthur got stuck in meetings over land disputes in outlying regions. Merlin became an expert at finding shortcuts to the knights’ quarters, in hopes that he’d catch Percival in. That particular strategy only worked twice, though both times, they got several hours of sharing stories about their childhood, dreaming about the future, and of course, kissing.

Percival was very good at kissing once he let his inhibitions go.

But every time Merlin thought he might get some real time with Percival, another emergency cropped up. Morgana being sighted at the Ridge of Chemary. A flood in the lower town that required every hand in Camelot. Arthur never commented one way or another, which in and of itself was odd because Arthur had opinions on everything. Even Gaius noticed something was off.

It all came to a head one fateful morning.

“Do you call this clean?” Arthur complained, tossing the shirt he was going to wear into Merlin’s face.

Merlin threw it back. “I just washed that yesterday.”

“It reeks. Wash it again.”

Merlin caught it the second time just as someone pounded at the door. 

At Arthur’s “Enter!”, Gwen burst in. Her face was flushed, her breath quick, as if she’d run all the way to his room. “Is your father in here?”

Arthur frowned. “No. Isn’t he in his chambers?”

“No. I brought in his breakfast and he was nowhere to be found.”

Snatching his shirt back from Merlin, Arthur whipped it over his head as he raced out the door. Merlin was right on his heels, with Gwen following behind. When they passed a guard, Arthur stopped long enough to order a search of the citadel. Every moment counted if Uther was missing.

His room was as barren as Gwen claimed. Merlin hung back as Arthur practically ransacked the place, noting with dread that Uther’s bedding was in perfect place.

“Did you do that?” he whispered to Gwen, nodding at the bed. When she shook her head, Merlin stepped forward and blocked Arthur’s path, forcing him to a sudden halt. “I think he left of his own accord, Arthur.”

“And why would he do that? He hasn’t left this room since Morgana disappeared.”

“I don’t know, but kidnappers don’t usually make the bed before they leave.”

Arthur stared grimly at the smooth blankets, then turned on his heel to march out of the room without another word. He opened every door he passed, brushed aside every tapestry, revealing nothing but empty rooms and alcoves all the way downstairs. Outside the great hall, Leon intercepted them. 

“The king’s horse is missing from the stable,” he reported. “I checked with the night guard. They said he rode out some time before dawn.”

“And nobody stopped him?” Arthur asked, incredulous.

Leon blinked. “He’s still the king, sire.”

“Someone should’ve told me.” On that, Merlin agreed. What came next, though… “Tell Elyan and Lancelot to saddle up and meet me in the courtyard in five minutes. We need to find my father before something serious happens to him.”

As Leon rushed off to see the orders obeyed, Merlin scurried after Arthur. “Why didn’t you ask for Percival? He’s the best tracker you have.”

“Because you’re coming with me.”

“So?”

“So, I would need his attention on the matter at hand, not finding ways to sidle up to you, Merlin.”

Merlin ground to a halt. “What’re you talking about?”

With an exasperated sigh, Arthur stopped as well, though he looked less than pleased about it. “You distract him. Just like he’s another excuse for you to slack off.”

The implication toward himself was annoying, but suggesting Percival was anything less than loyal was plain insulting. “He would _die_ for you, Arthur.”

“Something tells me I’m not the only one on that list.”

“If that were true, that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t give you everything he had. Since when does having feelings for someone compromise your ability to do the right thing? You of all people should know that.”

Arthur jabbed a finger at him. “Leave Gwen out of this. This is about you and Percival.”

“Is it? Or is it because you don’t like the fact that maybe I have a life, too, now?”

The suspicions he’d harbored for days now hit home. Arthur glared at him before resuming his quick strides toward his chambers. “We don’t have time for this. I need to get my sword and get out there to look for my father.”

“Send for Percival,” Merlin said, jogging to catch up. “I promise you. He will do everything in his power to bring Uther home. If he doesn’t, I’ll call it off with him.”

Though Arthur’s pace stuttered for a moment, he shook his head. “You can’t just turn off your feelings for him. I know that as well as anyone, too.”

“No, but what you do seem to have forgotten is that I serve you, as well. If our relationship weakens you in any way, how can I let it continue?”

Arthur weighed his argument in silence until they reached the top of the stairs. “Go get Percival.” His tone was terse. “If you’re not out in front in three minutes, we’re leaving without you.”

Relief surged through him, but he tamped it down in the face of Arthur’s continued unease. “Yes, sire.”

Three minutes. Time was of the essence, but at least they had a chance now to prove to Arthur their loyalties were only strengthened by their relationship, not weakened.

* * *

Percival took the lead with Arthur once they were outside the ramparts. They had a vague idea which direction Uther had taken from the guards who’d allowed him to pass, but the trail of hoof prints he’d left behind disappeared when they reached the narrow stream that cut across the edge of the nearby forest. Though everyone dismounted to search, no prints could be found on the opposite side. It took Percival spotting a broken branch that hung low over the water ten feet downstream for them to conclude Uther traveled in the shallows.

Merlin brought up the rear. It served double duty, allowing him the freedom to use magic if the need arose as well as proving to Arthur he didn’t command Percival’s attention unnecessarily. When he’d gone to fetch Percival, he’d said nothing about Arthur’s initial exclusion. Telling Percival of Arthur’s feelings served no one, especially when Merlin was confident Arthur would see the light given time to get used to them together.

“There.”

Percival’s voice stopped everyone, directing them to look where he pointed at the opposite bank. Arthur slid from his saddle and sloshed through the water to the shore, crouching down to better examine a clear hoofprint in the mud.

“Where do you think he’s going?” Elyan asked.

Straightening, Arthur scanned the forest ahead of him. “I don’t know.”

“Perhaps there’s something of significance out here for him,” Percival said. 

“The whole kingdom mattered to him,” Arthur replied. “This makes no sense. He’s trapped himself in his chambers for months now. What could possibly be powerful enough to draw him away when everything we’ve tried to do has failed?”

Merlin had a sickening feeling he knew what could, but it was Percival who voiced it aloud.

“It could be the same thing that’s kept him there.” The others might have been confused by Percival’s gentle tone, but Merlin wasn’t. People saw the muscles and stopped looking for anything else. Percival could be as intuitive as the rest, more so in some cases. It wasn’t in him to be cruel, and even a fool knew this was one subject that could make Arthur bleed without trying. “What if it’s Morgana who’s drawn him away from the castle?”

Her mention turned Arthur’s gaze back to the trees. Birds ruffled the leaves overhead, but he seemed oblivious to them, lost in whatever recriminations consumed him now. Merlin tensed, ready to come forward and prod him along. Though they were fewer these days, there were still times when he could lose Arthur to his doubts. Now could not be one of those.

“Gorlois’s grave,” he announced after nearly two minutes. Without a glance at the others, he mounted his horse again. “That’s where he’s heading.”

They set off at the fastest clip the dense trees allowed. Once the vegetation thinned, everyone hastened their pace, galloping toward the rise Arthur led them to. Scouring the horizon for any sign of Uther or Morgana, Merlin spotted the horse moments before Arthur did.

“Father!” 

Arthur kicked his horse and broke away from the group. The knights were close behind, but as Uther’s bowed figure became visible on the hillside, Merlin slowed. It could be a trap. It would be just like Morgana to lure Arthur beyond the safety of Camelot to get rid of both him and Uther, once and for all.

When Arthur dismounted, Lancelot and Elyan stayed with him, while Percival circled back to join Merlin. His mouth firmed as he approached, and his gaze jumped around, seeking what distracted Merlin.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

A glance toward the grave marker found Arthur on bended knee next to Uther, an arm around his back. Uther’s keening was audible even from the distance Merlin maintained.  
“We need to get Uther back to the castle as soon as possible.”

“Surely, he’s safe now.”

“I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Do you see a threat?”

“No…”

But that didn’t mean one wasn’t out there. He kept his eyes pealed as Arthur finally managed to coax Uther to his feet. The grave sat mostly in the open, with few places to hide, but Morgana only needed a viable line of sight to try something. From his position at the base of the hill, several crests could harbor someone on their other sides, beyond his range to spy.

“Halt!”

Elyan’s shout startled everyone. Arthur shoved Uther flat to the ground, while the knights twisted toward the black figure Elyan pointed his sword at, disappearing behind a ridge.

“Morgana,” Merlin hissed.

Percival was first to set off at a hard gallop, with Merlin right at his heels. Dirt flew up around the horses’ hooves as they raced over the damp grass. Vaguely, he heard the others take chase behind them, but his focus was on what was to come, where she would be. Above all else, he could not let her get to Arthur.

The heat hit them first. Merlin blinked against the sudden burn to see flames erupting over the hilltop. Easily ten feet high, they generated thick, black smoke, obscuring anything on the other side. Merlin yanked the reins to veer his horse away from the fire, but Percival was too far ahead to do the same. 

His mount reared, throwing Percival to the ground. He landed hard on his left shoulder, then rolled away to avoid the trample of his horse’s feet. The momentum took him over the peak. Gravity did the rest to start pulling him into the flames.

“No!” 

Panic blasted its way through Merlin’s veins. He had to twist to jump free of his horse, but then he was down, running, bent over to avoid the worst of the choking smoke. For all his strength and courage, Percival was defenseless if Morgana was still there. She would have no qualms about killing him, and if she did, it would be all Merlin’s fault. He was the one who’d convinced Arthur to let him come. He was the one who’d distracted Percival from what was going on with Uther at the grave. He would never forgive himself if Morgana claimed him as yet another victim today.

The fire crackled, sparks whipping into the air as it claimed more ground. Squinting into the smoke, Merlin saw Percival sprawled at the edge of the flames. At some point, he’d drawn his sword and driven it into the earth, using it as an anchor to keep from tumbling into the inferno. He held onto the hilt, but his left arm hung useless across his front, the angle wrong where it joined his shoulder. He’d dislocated in the fall. Even through the haze, Merlin could see that. He could also see that Percival wasn’t moving. His head was bowed, his chest heaving, but he wasn’t trying to get away from the encroaching fire. It was almost like he didn’t hear it at all.

A wild flame leapt across the back of Percival’s leg, igniting his trousers. Merlin acted before he could think.

Though the fire drowned out the sound of his spell, the wind blasted from his palm, extinguishing the flames licking their way up Percival’s leg. He swept his arm to the side, and the rest of the fire arced away, giving him room to rush to Percival.

“Here,” he said, scooping his shoulder beneath Percival’s good arm. When he tried to stand, however, he could barely budge Percival. “You’re heavier than you look, you know. A little help would be appreciated.”

Percival was staring at him. “What did you do?” he whispered.

“I haven’t done anything yet. But what I’d like to do is get you out of here.”

“No.” His voice cracked, rough from the smoke, and he flicked his tongue over his dry lips. “I saw you. You drove the fire back.”

The others would be here any moment, and the fire still raged out of control. “I didn’t do anything. It’s farther than you think.”

“Don’t lie to me, Merlin.” He’d snapped out of whatever fugue he’d been in, now concentrating fully on Merlin, complete with hurt in his eyes. “I thought we trusted each other.”

“We do.”

“So tell me.”

He could still pretend. In fact, it would be the smart thing to do, regardless of the fact that Lancelot already knew. But gazing into the face he adored, the lie refused to take root. He took a deep breath. 

“There they are!”

Elyan’s shout shattered the moment. Pressing his lips shut, Merlin stiffened his hold, sliding his arm out of the way when Elyan took Percival’s other side. They had to fight not to hurt Percival’s shoulder more than it already was, but with Elyan’s aid, Percival was back on his feet, limping up the slope, within seconds.

While Arthur helped Percival back onto his horse, Merlin took his cloak to work with Lancelot and Elyan in beating out the fires. His lungs burned by the time they finished, and his eyes watered as he trudged back up the hill. There’d been no more sign of Morgana, information they relayed to Arthur upon their return, but Merlin was even more disappointed by the hurt frown Percival still wore.

That was for him. He might’ve been granted a reprieve, but he still had a choice to make. He now had time to come up with a better lie, but could he actually do it?

* * *

Merlin flitted about in Arthur’s quarters, smoothing the blankets, straightening the dinner waiting on the table, sorting through the laundry he’d have to do the next day. Most of his day had been spent in the same mindless tasks, anything to keep him busy after they’d dropped Percival off with Gaius. He’d helped Arthur get Uther to his room, but after Arthur sent him away, his options loomed too ominous in front of him. Better to avoid them, he decided. Arthur’s armor had never looked so good.

When the door opened, he snapped straight, brimming with fresh nerves as Arthur strode in. “How’s Uther?”

“Better.” A weary Arthur dropped into his chair and let his head fall against its back. “I’ve put guards on his room so this doesn’t happen again.”

“Did he say why he did it?”

“Just that he was compelled to go to Gorlois’s grave. He doesn’t remember anything out of the ordinary prior to waking up and needing to leave.” He sighed. “I didn’t tell him we saw Morgana. There’s no telling how he would’ve reacted to that news.”

“So you think she was behind it.” Merlin certainly did, but Arthur didn’t always follow the most logical path. Sometimes, his emotions got in the way of seeing what was right in front of his face.

Not this time, thankfully. “She had to be. Why else would she be there? The question is how did she do it? I didn’t think magic could happen at such a distance.”

It couldn’t. It required something up close and personal, either the caster or an enchanted token. If Morgana hadn’t found a way in herself, she had someone working with her within the citadel walls. Both were frightening to consider.

He didn’t utter that aloud, though. Arthur had enough to think about. He’d search Uther’s room himself, and if he didn’t find anything, start researching a way to protect him from future enchantments.

Arthur tore open a roll. “How’s Percival doing?”

It shamed him to admit, but… “I don’t know.”

Arthur’s chewing slowed as he frowned at Merlin. “Why not?”

“I haven’t seen him since we left him with Gaius. I assume since Gaius never sent for me that all went well.”

“You assumed.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“And you weren’t worried?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You’re not saying much of anything at all. Unlike this morning when I couldn’t get you to shut up about him. I would’ve thought you’d be using this to spend more time with him, not less. You were right, after all.”

“I do want—wait. Did you just admit I was right?”

“I’m not saying it again.”

“But I was.”

“If you’re expecting an apology, you’re out of luck.”

“No, no, just relishing you admitting you were wrong for a change.”

“That’s not quite the same thing.”

“Oh, I think it is.”

“You’re changing the subject. We were talking about you and Percival. You don’t have to be afraid of seeing him, you know. You both proved yourselves today.” His gaze softened. “In fact, I haven’t thanked you yet for helping. We might have been too late if you hadn’t convinced me to let Percival come along. Not to mention Percival might’ve been more seriously injured if you hadn’t been there to get him away from the fire quickly.”

Though he knew Arthur meant well, his words only deepened his sense of guilt. Avoiding Percival wasn’t going to make what was to come any easier.

“If you don’t need anything more tonight, maybe I can go now and see how he’s feeling,” Merlin said.

With a half-smile, Arthur went back to his dinner. “That sounds like an excellent idea. Good night, Merlin.”

Merlin took the most direct route, though he puzzled the whole way there about what he was going to say. Even when he knocked on the door, he was clueless what would happen when Percival answered.

Except he didn’t. Gwaine did.

“Merlin!” Throwing an arm around his shoulder, Gwaine hauled Merlin inside. “Now the party can begin.”

When Merlin entered, Percival rose from where he sat, the remains of his dinner still on the table before him. His left arm was in a sling, but otherwise, he seemed perfectly fine, which was a bigger relief than Merlin anticipated.

“I’m not interrupting, am I?” Arthur might know, and Gwaine might have done everything he could to throw them together, but until something was said out loud, Merlin felt better about continuing the pretense. At least until something shuttered behind Percival’s eyes. It was then he realized how much of his life was about deceiving others. How could he lump Percival in with the rest of it when he’d made it so clear he wanted Merlin to trust him?

“No, of course not,” Gwaine said. “Just keeping the big guy company until he got a better offer.”

“Did you need something?” Percival asked quietly.

“Arthur asked how you were doing.” When Percival’s features closed even more, he stepped forward and added, “I’m so sorry I didn’t come sooner. I’ve been thinking about you all day long.”

Hope glimmered all too briefly in his gaze before he sat again and hid his eyes from view by focusing on his plate. “Gaius set my shoulder, but other than that, you can tell Arthur I’m all right.”

“All right,” Gwaine scoffed. “He’s been moping around ever since I brought him back to his room. I would’ve thought he’d relish having a valid excuse to cut all his sleeves off for a change, but since it seems you’re the only person who isn’t Arthur he listens to these days, maybe I should let you be the one to convince him it’s not the end of the world if he can’t lift a bloody horse for a few days.”

“I can try.” Carefully, he took the chair opposite Percival, making it clear he wasn’t going anywhere unless Percival kicked him out. “Arthur’s turned in for the night. I’ll give him an update in the morning. Right now, you’re my priority.”

“And on that note…” Opening the door, Gwaine hesitated on the threshold. “For what it’s worth, nobody’s more thrilled than I am that you two have found each other. Don’t be stupid and lose it because you’re both too hard-headed to say what you need to.”

Merlin chuckled as he left. “Leave it to Gwaine to call it like he sees it.”

“Except I don’t know what you’re expecting me to say.”

“I’m not. It’s what I didn’t say earlier.”

When Percival lifted his head, his guileless eyes locked on Merlin’s. “I’ve only ever asked you to trust me,” he said.

“I know.” Bringing his closed fist to his lips, Merlin whispered the single word without ever looking away from Percival. When he held his hand back out, the flame leapt from his palm. “I was born with magic.”

Percival’s soft inhalation was audible, his eyes wide as he watched the tiny fire dancing over Merlin’s skin. He started to reach for it, then stopped, his fingers hovering a few inches away. “That doesn’t hurt?”

“No. It’s a part of me.” He closed his hand around the flame, only opening it again once it was gone. “Go ahead. Touch.”

A tentative Percival skimmed his fingertips over the unbroken skin, tracing the lines in a caress so light it almost tickled.

When he didn’t speak right away, Merlin fought not to fidget. “I know the law says otherwise, but magic itself isn’t evil. You have to believe that.”

The look on his face was incredulous awe, strong enough to soothe Merlin’s fears. “How could I not? I’ve seen what you do. I know what kind of man you are. Nothing could ever change my opinion of that, magic or not.”

With his heart thudding in his throat, Merlin rose and stretched across the table to brush his lips over Percival’s. “Thank you for that,” he whispered. “You have no idea how terrified I’ve been about what you might think.”

“Is that why you didn’t come before now?”

Merlin nodded. “Very few know. I couldn’t be sure how you’d react. I’ve seen perfectly reasonable people make bad decisions because they fear what they don’t understand.”

“I understand _you_. That’s all I need.” He paused. “Does Arthur know?”

“No.”

“But Gaius does.”

“Yes. And Lancelot. Actually, I wondered for a long time whether or not he told you. But that’s it.”

“Not Gwaine?”

“No.” Merlin laughed. “I think if Gwaine knew, I’d be stuck trying to convince him it’s not right for me to rig every bet he thinks he might lose.”

Though he smiled, Percival remained thoughtful, catching Merlin’s hand again. His thumb ran along the center, as if trying to coax the flame back to life, but for as gentle as his grip was, Merlin gained strength from each stroke.

“You never have to fear me,” Percival said.

“I know. Is there anything you want to ask me about it?”

“No. All that matters to me is knowing the man I care for most in this world is safe.”

It was the closest either of them had come to admitting out loud how deeply their feelings ran. Overcome with emotion, Merlin kissed Percival again, this time lingering for long minutes as their tongues danced and entwined. He was breathless when he tugged at Percival to stand, but regained some control in the moments it took to guide him to the bed and push him gently onto it.

“It won’t be easy.” He took care to help Percival lean against the headboard before straddling his broad thighs. “Until magic isn’t seen as a crime, nobody else can know.”

Percival stayed still as Merlin slowly began to undress, but the glow in his eyes was pure adoration. “And nobody will.”

“Even Arthur.” He tossed his shirt away. “Maybe _especially_ Arthur.”

Though Percival nodded in agreement, he leaned forward and nuzzled against Merlin’s throat, his free arm looping around Merlin’s waist to hold him tight. The words he uttered then echoed in Merlin’s thoughts long after they’d fallen asleep, with Merlin resting his cheek on Percival’s chest, both men content in the knowledge this was where they were meant to be.

“Arthur has my allegiance, but you have my heart, Merlin. I will protect your truth. For always.”


End file.
